Throw It Away
by Dekora
Summary: AU. Malik/Ryou. Marik/Bakura. After gambling away his money again, Malik decides to ask his estranged twin brother, Marik, for help. When that plan backfires, he finds himself stuck in a situation he didn't expect.
1. Don't Go Off Wandering

**Throw It Away**  
written by Dekora

**notes** AU. Malik/Ryou. Marik/Bakura. Enjoy!

Chapter One  
Don't Go Off Wandering

Glancing out the bus window, Malik's violet eyes watched the scenery as it passed him by. Where seeing a new place would normally excite him, the Egyptian was having trouble keeping his spirits up. This wasn't the first time that he'd lost all of his money gambling and even his ever-patient sister was losing her temper with him. For this reason, he'd opted to try something else before doing what he always did and running to her to bail him out. Now that he had plenty of time to give it a second thought, he was regretting his decision. It felt foolish -- this wasn't a last resort and in hindsight, confessing he'd messed up again to Isis was probably easier and smarter to do than trying to con his estranged twin brother out of money.

Marik had left their family the moment he'd been old enough to do so, abandoning the Ishtar clan to go out to Los Angeles for reasons that Malik still couldn't fathom. Malik's choice hadn't been infinitely better -- he'd wound up in Las Vegas for a while, but he had a sort of logic and reasoning behind it. He severely doubted Marik had thought things through.

The twins had never seen eye to eye on much of anything. After Marik had left, neither of them made much effort to keep in contact. It had been out-of-the-blue that Malik had called Marik, using the lie that he'd missed his brother and actually wanted to see him (he knew that Marik would without a doubt deny him if he came right out and asked for money). He'd always been a decent liar, so he assumed that if he could persuade Marik that he genuinely cared about him, _maybe_ he'd be kind enough to throw his older twin a bone and lend him a bit of money. It was on the bus that he recalled that caring about Marik was irrelevant; he couldn't remember his younger brother ever doing anything for anyone but himself (they were at least alike in that regard).

Gauging whether or not Marik had believed him had been difficult, but after a little persuasion, he'd agreed to let Malik visit for a week. Only a week -- he had work to do, though he'd dismissed the topic when Malik had asked what he did (Malik had no problem admitting that he was a bartender in a casino, which was undoubtedly a large part of his current problem).

The bus pulled into the stop and after checking the GPS on his phone one last time (he'd gone over and over the route in his mind), Malik grabbed his back pack and headed off the bus. He hadn't brought much, odd for him, but he'd had to pawn the more expensive things off to pay for gambling debt, and beyond that -- well, he had enough clothes and his tooth brush. Did he really need more?

He'd tried to convince Marik to pick him up, solely so he didn't have to attempt and navigate the streets of an unknown city alone, but Marik had refused (and unsurprisingly offered no explanation for doing so). He had very little change, but he found a taxi nonetheless, telling the driver the directions. The driver took credit cards, at least, and Malik hadn't completely maxed-out his most recent one. He paid with that and then found himself climbing out of the car to come face to face with a rather elaborate home.

Well, that was unexpected. Home, even, seemed to weak a term to describe the place -- it looked more like a mansion than anything. How had he not noticed this driving up? He hesitated at the door, wondering if his brother had given him a false address. He wouldn't put it past Marik; it'd be just like his brother to make Malik his way out to a new place, only to direct him to complete strangers.

Pressing the doorbell, Malik silently hoped that he was just being paranoid. His brother wasn't _that_ mean, right? He was probably making his brother out to be more of a monster than he was out of his own, deluded childhood memories. They hadn't exactly grown up under the best circumstances; they probably both exaggerated their pasts (and therefore each other) to extreme extents.

It wasn't Marik that opened the door and Malik's skepticism returned the moment he laid eyes on the silver-haired, brown-eyed man that did. The man was shorter than he was, cigarette between yellowing fingers as he glared in Malik's direction. He didn't seemed dressed for a home like this -- cheap, tattered jeans and an old t-shirt that had some awkward, red stain on the stomach -- but Malik supposed that even millionaires weren't dressed to impress _all_ the time.

"Is Marik here?" He'd give his brother the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he had a roommate? That really didn't make sense, given the house, but hey, anything was possible, right? His brother, if this was really his home, had a mansion; anything else would seem normal in comparison.

The man took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke up in Malik's face before shaking his head. "No, he went out."

Out? "He was expecting me," Malik explained. At least he knew that Marik lived here now. "Did he say when he'd be back?"

It wasn't hard to figure out Malik and Marik were related, and the man seemed to have put the pieces together. "Never does," he answered, smirking slightly. "He didn't say he had a brother."

That wasn't a surprise. Malik didn't exactly volunteer the information that he had a twin to the people he knew either. He was much more apt to talk about Isis or Rishid, but bringing up Marik always felt like swallowing poison. "Well, he does. I'm staying here this week." Then, Malik demanded, "Who are you anyway?"

"I don't owe you an answer."

Malik would have begged to differ, but this man wasn't his main concern. "Can you call him? I don't have his cell phone number. I just need to tell him I'm here."

"I'd rather not." Nonetheless, the man moved away from the door, making room for Malik to enter the home. Malik followed him, more than obviously annoyed at the man. He'd have to harass his brother about this later; who the hell would agree for their twin to show up at a _specific_ time and then make sure they weren't there?

End Chapter One


	2. In My Way

**Throw It Away**  
written by Dekora

Chapter Two  
In My Way

"I brought dinner," was the first thing that Malik heard his brother say, though the comment was very obviously not to him. Marik, he noted, didn't even look his way as he tossed the plastic bags containing what appeared to be take out on the kitchen counter. It had been two hours since Malik had arrived, and the man who had greeted him had offered him very few words of conversation after letting him in (although he had gone through an impressive amount of cigarettes over the length of time, if one could consider chain-smoking impressive at all).

It didn't take long for Malik to figure out he'd have to be the first to break the silence between them. "Marik." It seemed unrealistic that Marik could go years without speaking to his own twin brother and then, upon being reunited with him, have next to no reaction. It certainly wasn't how Malik wanted things to go. He needed Marik to care, at least somewhat, for him for his plan to work.

The answer he got wasn't what he expected: "You're not here to visit me." Marik made no effort to guess why Malik was there, though with the way Marik's violet eyes seemed fixated on his own, Malik had to wonder if somehow, Marik already knew.

Malik was thankful when the silence was broken by the third person in the room; it meant he didn't have to try and defend himself just yet. "You didn't tell me you had a twin." The silver-haired man in question was digging through the bags, picking out what food was his.

"You're not interested," Marik responded flatly, though his lips curved into a smirk. Something about the way the two interacted seemed off to Malik, though he couldn't quite place why. He'd chalk it up to the odd expression on his brother's face.

"You know me so well," the man chuckled, grabbing his carton of food and a pair of chopsticks before he walked past them and out of the kitchen.

When they were alone, Malik found his gaze on his brother once more. "Who's he?" That seemed a considerably safer topic than touching on the reason for Malik's out-of-the-blue visit.

"Bakura."

The name offered very little explanation as to who 'Bakura' actually was, but Malik had the feeling that trying to delve deeper into the subject wasn't going to get him anything more substantial. He decided, then, to play dumb: "Earlier – you said I wasn't here to visit you. What makes you say that?" He wasn't looking at Marik now, which made his lie less believable, though he tried to pass it off as looking at the food. Marik had known he was coming – had he brought dinner for Malik, too?

Marik pushed the bag away from Malik which answered that question rather quickly. "I know you," was the simple response. It was followed by a muttered, Arabic, "I _am_ you," though Malik decided that he must have simply misheard that part.

"You haven't seen me in years," Malik protested, able once more to look his brother in the eye. "Things have changed. The entire family's changed." That sentence left a bitter taste in his mouth and Malik added quietly, "Father passed away. We tried to get in touch—"

"I know," Marik responded dismissively. "I got the calls. He's all chopped up and underground now, I presume?" He actually grinned as he said it and the expression left Malik feeling chilled. "Or did you have him burned?"

It wasn't surprising that Marik had opted not to attend their father's funeral; Marik and their father had never gotten along. It was, however, surprising that Marik seemed to know details (or at least, Malik thought it sounded like he knew details – Malik knew very little himself, only that it had been a murder). "Chopped up?" He regretted the question the moment he asked it.

Marik took a seat on a barstool, pulling out his dinner and opening the carton. He fiddled with his chopsticks until they were positioned just right (he still struggled to use them) and took a bite of broccoli before elaborating, "Chopped up may have been a little presumptuous. During the autopsy, they cut you open and crack your ribs. I imagine he was in pieces at least to some degree." He took another bite of rice before wrinkling his nose. "I don't know why I humor him with this food. It's bland." It took Malik a moment to realize that the 'him' Marik had been referring to must have been Bakura.

The food in question was a much more cheerful topic than what was originally being discussed. Malik found himself not wanting to continue that particular conversation at all, so he questioned (trying not to sound phased by Marik's comments and failing as he did so), "What is it?"

"Chinese," Marik answered, as though he'd never mentioned the state of their father's corpse. "He loves it. I find it ironic – he's Japanese."

Why was he getting more information on Bakura now? It was all trivial, too. Malik didn't particularly care to know the food Bakura liked, much less the technicalities of his nationality. "Oh. Weird." He sounded as unenthused as he was, he knew, though that only amused Marik.

They were silent then, and Malik watched his brother intently. There were a thousand questions he could have asked Marik, but none of them felt right. He wanted, more than anything, to ask about the house and the amount of money that Marik must have had to maintain it, but that made his goals, he thought, a little too obvious. If Marik had been able to see through him as well as he had already, he'd surely see through that, too.

"I really did come here to see you," Malik told him, watching as Marik popped another piece of broccoli into his mouth.

Marik looked up at him, expression neutral for a moment. "What were you expecting from this visit?"

The question appeared harmless enough, though Malik fumbled over his answer: "Didn't I just tell you?"

"Tch," Marik scoffed, stabbing at a piece of broccoli in the carton. "I mean in 'seeing me'. Did you expect a warm reunion? You didn't imagine that I'd be happy to see you, did you?"

"No," Malik admitted. "To be honest, I regretted calling you the moment I hung up." Marik had wanted the truth, and perhaps, feeding a little bit of it to him would lead him along the way Malik hoped.

It made Marik grin at least. His tongue ran over his top lip before he responded, "You really should have second-guessed yourself." He glanced down to his half-empty carton of food, "Though you're here now, which means I can't let you leave."

End Chapter Two


	3. Regardless

**Throw It Away**  
written by Dekora

Chapter Three  
Regardless

The seriousness in Marik's tone made Malik question just what his brother meant by 'can't let you leave'. Can't, for one, seemed like a word far too strong for a casual conversation. It didn't help that Marik had appeared to be cheerful at the idea of their father's demise. Malik recalled enough of their childhood to remember his younger twin's violent streak.

"I'm not in your way," Malik insisted, narrowed eyes watching Marik warily. "You weren't even here when I arrived. I'm not causing you an inconvenience so there's no reason to—" He couldn't really figure out where he wanted to head with that statement, a rarity because Malik wasn't often at a loss for words.

It was then that Bakura walked back into the kitchen, tossing his empty carton of Chinese food into the trash can before looking over at Marik. "I'm going out."

The grin that had previously been on Marik's face disappeared at Bakura's words. "Where are you going?" The hint of possessiveness in his tone wasn't something that Malik could easily miss and he was once again left wondering just who Bakura was to Marik.

The fact that Bakura didn't appear to be phased by it was just as strange. "My cousin called," he answered, leaning against their kitchen counter as he spoke, fingers tapping rhythmically on the granite counter top. "He needed help with a set design or something. He's paying me." Bakura never did anything for free and helping out family was no exception.

"Tch," Marik scoffed, always unimpressed with the idea that Bakura would 'help' anyone, even if it was for a price. "When will you be back?" He was demanding to know a time, something that Bakura was well aware of.

That didn't change Bakura's response. "Whenever I want to be." Smirking confidently at Marik, he added, "You're not alone. Use him as entertainment."

Malik objected to that particular statement. "I'm not entertainment," he protested dryly.

Malik's enthusiasm only led Bakura to chuckle and pull out his pack of cigarettes. After pulling out one, he rested it between his lips and tossed the pack on the counter. He lit it and then took a drag, leaning his head back as he blew out a puff of smoke.

"Why are you still here then?" Marik asked, narrowing his eyes. He'd deal with Malik later ('not entertainment' was a delusion that he couldn't allow Malik to keep).

Bakura grinned at him and inquired, "Are you trying to chase me out now? Are you that bitter that I'm leaving?" When Marik simply scowled at him, he rolled his eyes. It wasn't until the doorbell rang that Marik placed the pieces together.

"He's coming here?" The disdain in Marik's tone was unmistakable, and Malik was left wondering what kind of person triggered a venomous hatred in his brother.

"Stopping by," Bakura responded dismissively, walking past Marik (who followed after him) to the front door. Curiously, Malik moved into the hallway, though for his own sake, he lingered behind the two.

Marik had managed to move past Bakura in time to open the door, revealing a smaller boy who looked a little less than pleased to be greeted by him. He had the same silver hair as Bakura, and it wasn't hard to figure out that this was the 'cousin' the other had spoke of. Nonetheless, Malik didn't see anything about him that screamed a reason for Marik to hate him as much as he apparently did.

Bakura was at Marik's side then, shoving the other out of his way. "Ignore him," Bakura instructed his visitor. "He's bitter that I'm leaving him alone with his long lost twin brother." Marik grabbed Bakura's wrist then, twisting it in a manner that Malik knew would have been painful, though the expression on Bakura's face barely changed. He stomped on Marik's foot then, using that as a distraction to pull his hand away. "It's your problem, not mine," he told Marik directly.

It was obvious that the situation would have gotten increasingly violent if the boy at the door hadn't stepped in. "Bakura, let's go."

Marik took that as an opportunity to mock the boy then: "Oh, you don't want to come in? I'm hurt, Ryou."

For a moment, Ryou looked torn between giving Marik the benefit of the doubt and believing him and going with what he knew was the truth and ignoring the sarcastic remark. "We have to pick up supplies," he told Marik, refusing to actually look him in the eye. Instead, his gaze was locked on Bakura's, the man he clearly blamed for all of this. "We don't want the stores to close."

"The stores won't close," Marik smirked. "Not this early."

Bakura chuckled, blowing a puff of smoke in Marik's direction. "You always make it so difficult for him to politely decline." He stepped towards Marik then and did something that shocked Malik – he pressed his lips firmly against Marik's. It was a quick kiss and practically nothing, but the fact that it happened was astonishing (enough so that Malik couldn't even bring himself to comment on it right away; weirder yet was that no one, including this 'Ryou', seemed phased). "I'll be back tonight. Enjoy family time."

He motioned for Ryou to follow him then, and the two stepped outside with Ryou questioning him about the stain on his shirt. Malik didn't get to hear the response as Marik had already shut the door. When Marik turned around, their eyes met and Malik felt a chill go down his spine. The silence was uncomfortable enough that Malik saw little problem in breaking it with something awkward, "Is he your…" Boyfriend seemed like such an awkward term to use, especially given that this was Marik he was talking to. "Are you seeing him?"

Something about the look on Marik's face – it looked more perplexed than anything – answered the question better than words could have, though not knowing the situation, Malik was left to interpret the signs to mean something else. Marik never bothered to give him a real answer (mostly because, at this point, Marik simply didn't know – the intricacies of his relationship with Bakura had never been defined by words, but he was acutely aware that if Bakura so much as looked elsewhere, he'd kill both Bakura and the person on the receiving end of the glance) and instead walked over to Marik, standing before him and running his fingers over his older twin's cheek. "You ask a lot of questions."

"I asked one question," Malik corrected stubbornly, raising an eyebrow. "You're at least sleeping with him." It actually amused Malik – the idea that his brother, who normally seemed so untouchable, was apparently with someone in the way he was with Bakura.

Marik withdrew his fingers, scowling at Malik. "I have before, yes," he responded, unwilling to go into details that it really didn't happen as often as he would have liked. Malik was lucky that he'd divulged that much to him.

It took Malik a moment to process that information, only because he'd never particularly thought of his brother _that_ way before (he'd never really thought to dwell on his brother's sexual preferences before). Now that he had, he really wasn't sure how he felt about it. "He's, uh," nice would have been a lie, so Malik substituted, "interesting," instead.

Marik snorted, responding, "One would think. He's really rather boring once you figure him out." That sounded more like the Marik that Malik had grown up with – he had a habit of figuring people out, more often than not solely so he could exploit their weaknesses. Marik noticed where the conversation had gone and decided quickly that he didn't want it to continue down that path. Discussing whatever semblance of a relationship he had with Bakura to Malik wasn't high on his priority list. "Mm, come with me. I might as well show you where you'll be staying."

Malik took that opportunity to grab his bags (he'd left them in the living room earlier, for lack of knowing where else he was supposed to put them) and let Marik lead him upstairs. Marik's tour was half-hearted, telling only the bare minimum of what was what, and it was obvious that Malik wasn't welcome in most of the rooms. When they stopped at the room Malik would be staying in, Malik realized it was as good a time as any to ask the question that had been on his mind since he'd first arrived there, "How exactly did you end up with a mansion anyway?" It was a giant change from the small one-bedroom apartment that Malik was used to.

Smirking, Marik shrugged his shoulders. "I ended up with a well-paying job, to say the least~"

"You have no intention of explaining, do you?" Malik asked, sounding less than impressed. Whereas Marik being cryptic probably should have intrigued him, it didn't do much more than annoy him.

It didn't help that Marik didn't give him a sound answer and instead ended up answering a phone call on his cell. He turned away from Malik when he spoke, though everything he said was in a language that Malik didn't understand to begin with. He'd thought knowing two languages (Arabic and English, respectively) was impressive, but apparently, Marik had one-upped him in that department and knew three.

The conversation sounded almost angry, though with Marik, Malik could never tell if that meant anything significant or if that was just the way that he was. When he hung up, though, he spun back around to face Marik and told him, "I need to leave. Stay here."

Malik gave him a skeptical look. Where else, exactly, would he go? (Had he been aware of the way his brother's mind worked, he would have left long before now.) "I will?" he offered, tossing his back pack onto an arm chair in his room. It was far more elaborate than it needed to be, he noted, but then again, everything about this mansion seemed to be that way. "I'll see you later."

"Stay out of my room," Marik instructed him.

The statement just made Malik laugh. "What are we? Eight?" Granted, when they were eight, they'd been forced to share a room, but that really wasn't the point. "I won't do anything but watch TV. How long will you be gone?"

Marik shrugged his shoulders, narrowing his eyes. "I don't know. If Bakura gets home before I do, tell him I went out."

"Will he ask where?" It seemed reasonable; it's the first thing Malik would have asked if he'd been told the person he'd lived with had gone out.

"No, he won't." Marik was sure of that – Bakura rarely cared about anything that didn't directly involve him. "I'll see you later tonight, Malik."

End Chapter Three

**Notes** Ryou will appear more in the next chapter, promise! 8D;


	4. Anatomy of Your Enemy

**Throw It Away  
**by Dekora

**Notes **I just wanted to say thank you for the reviews! I'm always thrilled to get them and wanted to let you guys know that I appreciate them, even if I don't always have the opportunity to respond. Also, a giant thank you to my friend, Chey, for beta-reading this chapter for me.

Chapter Four  
Anatomy of Your Enemy

"Are you sure you don't want to stay here tonight?" The hopefulness in Ryou's tone was more than evident as he watched his cousin hammer away at the part of the set that they were working on. He knew the answer would be the same as it always was. Bakura really had no reason to stay with him, especially since the home he could go to was far more cushy than Ryou's small apartment.

Bakura stopped hammering long enough to look over to Ryou, expression one of exasperation. He was used to Ryou's constant attempts to keep anywhere but near Marik, but at times it just got tiring. Now was one of those times. He wouldn't have agreed to help his cousin if he'd been aware of just how hard Ryou was going to attempt to guilt him into staying around. At this point, Ryou had tried everything from passively hinting towards wanting Bakura to stay to pointing out how lonely it got living in the apartment on his own. Guilt was one emotion that Bakura didn't often feel, so as much as Ryou tried, his efforts were fruitless.

"I get the point," Ryou sighed as he returned to his task of painting. 'Getting the point' and 'giving up' were two entirely different concepts, and Ryou hadn't done the latter. "We should have a movie night sometime. I haven't seen _The Uninvited_ yet."

"I don't have time to watch movies with you," was Bakura's stock response and had been ever since he'd taken the job at the law firm he was currently working at (a career path Bakura had chosen solely for the money involved). It was just an excuse, and Ryou was smart enough to see through it.

Ryou sighed, looking over to Bakura. "Too busy defending criminals to spend time with your favorite cousin?" He tried to sound like he was joking, but the humor was lost somewhere in between conjuring up the line and actually saying it.

By now, Bakura was fed up enough with Ryou to start getting nasty and taking stabs where he knew he shouldn't. "My favorite cousin was Amane."

The remark stung, and Ryou didn't do well to mask the emotion. Glancing down at his paintbrush, he responded the only way he could without really dwelling on the statement, "Amane wouldn't like him either." Having grown up with Bakura, he was accustomed to the other's complete lack of tact, but that rarely made dealing with it any easier.

As Bakura couldn't refute the statement, he just shrugged his shoulders and went back to hammering. They worked in silence until Bakura's cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the caller ID before answering, "What do you want?"

Ryou gave him a knowing stare, one that Bakura knew to read as his cousin disapproving of the fact that it appeared Bakura couldn't leave the mansion for more than a few hours without Marik calling to check up on him.

Bakura, on the other hand, knew that wasn't the case. He was proved correct when Marik didn't ask about him and instead said, "I'll be home late. Business meeting."

"Business meeting?" Bakura drawled, fiddling with the nail he had been preparing to drive into the wood. "Isn't it a little late to be working?" He looked over to Ryou before adding, "Nevermind. I don't care. Nn, is your brother still there?"

"He's staying for a week," Marik informed him. "I need to go." He hung up then and Bakura followed suit. They very rarely bothered with 'good-bye'. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, Bakura went back to work.

Eventually, Ryou's curiosity got the best of him. "He really has a twin that he didn't tell you about?" He'd finished painting the set wall he'd been working on and moved to take a seat by Bakura.

Bakura took that as a sign that he, too, could quit working for the time being and set the hammer aside. "Apparently."

It had always amazed Ryou just how apathetic Bakura managed to be. In this case, it was even an issue that Ryou imagined would have affected his cousin (though, by the way Bakura was reacting, Bakura didn't agree – Marik's family was more than irrelevant in his mind). "That doesn't bother you at all? Isn't it a little weird that he'd not mention something like that?"

"If you had a twin you didn't speak to, would you necessarily tell the person you were fooling around with?" Bakura questioned. "Family didn't come up in conversation. I don't know how you'd slip that one in."

Ryou gave him a curious look. "You've really never discussed family?" Then, he mumbled, "You're more than just fooling around with him, Bakura. You live with him." Living with someone and having sex really didn't equate a relationship, and Ryou knew that, but Bakura wasn't factoring in his asexuality and the fact that he really i_wasn't_/i sleeping with Marik because he personally wanted to. That was something, Ryou figured, that he was doing solely for Marik's benefit. Ryou tried hard not to dwell on the fact that Bakura came to him, of all people, with this information.

Bakura gave him the response that he expected: "That doesn't mean anything." Family was a topic that Bakura personally preferred not to touch on. He didn't enjoy discussing his own family; he'd be even less interested in the family of someone else. As far as Marik was concerned, Bakura preferred not to bother analyzing their relationship. It never left him with any conclusion that he was proud of. The concept of liking someone wasn't something that Bakura was comfortable with, even at his age. "He's not going to be home until late tonight. If you want to rent that movie, we can watch it at my place on the big screen."

That was as successful as Ryou could hope to be with Bakura and it was enough to make him break out into a smile. "You're just saying that to brag about your big screen," he teased, standing up and brushing his hands off on his pants, testing to see if the paint on them was dry.

"Take it or leave it," Bakura responded, standing up. This, he hoped, meant they were done with the set. Ryou had really only wanted to catch up – he tended to get caught up in the finer details of the sets he designed, which generally put him behind on deadlines.

When Ryou had successfully wiped off the wet paint onto his pants, he looked over to Bakura. "We'll stop by Blockbuster on the way to your place." He still resented calling it 'Bakura's place' and had since Bakura had first moved in with Marik. It didn't seem natural, though he could, at times, use the idea that perhaps Bakura was just attracted to the money end of things as comfort.

* * *

The trip to Blockbuster had been short and sweet, as it always was when Ryou went with Bakura. When alone, he could spend hours looking through the shelves to find a movie that suited his fancy, even when he'd originally started with a movie in mind. Once they returned to the mansion, they were greeted with the sight of Malik in the living room, lying on the couch and watching the television. He'd promised Marik that would be how he spent his time (though that had been a lie, as the first thing he'd done was given himself a tour of the mansion since it appeared that no one else intended to).

"Move." Bakura headed straight for the DVD player, turning it on and inserting the rented DVD.

The bluntness of Bakura's order, along with the way he turned off the show as though Malik hadn't been in the middle of watching something, left Malik feeling irritated. He sat up and snapped, "I was watching something, you know."

Bakura glanced back at him then and responded, "It's not your house." As rude as it was, it really did seem logical to Bakura.

The argument would have continued if it weren't for Ryou, who stepped over and stood beside the couch (not wanting to sit down with a stranger there) and apologized, "He doesn't mean it. He's just…"

"I mean it," Bakura replied. Unlike his cousin, he had little problem sitting down on i_his_/i couch. Propping his feet up on the coffee table, he looked over to Ryou. "Sit down." It was clearly a demand, so Ryou obeyed.

Politely, he offered to Malik, "We're watching a movie if you want to join us." Then, realizing that he hadn't introduced himself, he extended his hand to the other. "I'm Ryou. I'm Bakura's cousin. … I'm not really here often."

Malik studied Ryou's hand warily for a moment before shaking it. Shaking hands really wasn't something his was used to. Awkwardly, he said, "Me either." It was a true statement, at least. The movie turned out to be a horror film, which wasn't particularly Malik's favorite genre. Still, watching it seemed preferable to being alone elsewhere in his brother's giant house. "Er, I'm Malik."

"It's nice to meet you," Ryou offered, giving the other a small smile. Malik felt that he couldn't really offer the same sentiment without lying, so he didn't say anything else throughout most of the movie. Bakura wound up being a rather obnoxious person to watch anything with – he talked through most, if not all of the movie quite loudly, making it hard to really hear what was going on. Ryou didn't mind nearly as much as Malik; horror movies tended to be rather predictable, to the point that Bakura and he often made a game out of guessing what would happen next, and at times, when Ryou was doing particularly well at work, they wagered money on it.

When the movie was over, Bakura got up and left the room. He hadn't so much as offered a 'good-bye', so even Ryou looked a little confused. He glanced over to Malik then and tried to make small-talk. "What brings you here?" He was dying to know what kept twins from talking on a regular basis, really, but that felt a little too personal to ask right away. "I mean – if you don't mind me asking. Bakura mentioned that you and Marik weren't particularly…" Ah, he'd drifted into 'rude' territory. "I'm sorry. That's really none of my business."

Malik shook his head, reaching for the remote and turning off the DVD player. The show that was on was a late night talk show, which he didn't mind so much as background noise. An honest answer seemed out of the question, so Malik fed Ryou the lie, "I hadn't spoken to Marik at all in a few years. I figured it was time to try and fix the gap, you know?"

"That makes sense," Ryou murmured. He wasn't particularly close to his father, but given that they still spoke, he figured it wasn't quite the same. "Have you been here long?" That didn't seem to be the case; Ryou imagined Bakura would have mentioned it sooner if it was.

He was right. "No, I got here today," Malik answered, wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Marik wasn't here when I got here and by the time he got back, he was gone again in a couple of hours. Some host." He really didn't feel too bad complaining about Marik. Who abandoned their twin brother moments after he'd arrived?

As it was, Ryou was too polite to voice his true opinions of Marik, not knowing if they'd get back to him. The only person he was truly comfortable telling them to was Bakura, who barely listened when it came to things like that. "That does seem a bit rude," Ryou offered quietly, studying Malik. "Maybe he just doesn't know how to react? If you haven't spoken in a long time, I mean…"

"Possibly," Malik replied, though he doubted that much. Marik wasn't the type of person to shy away from anything. "I wouldn't have come if I'd known it would be like this. I shelled out the last of my money to get here."

Malik seemed sincere when he said it, though Ryou had trouble trusting that he was. Nonetheless, if he really had spent the last of his money to visit Marik, that was rather unfortunate. "How long are you here for?"

"A week," Malik responded, glancing towards the television. "If it's a week of this, it'll be pretty awkward though."

It seemed a little forward, but Ryou found himself making his next offer regardless. "Maybe we could hang out. So you're not stuck in a mansion alone, I mean…"

Looking back at Ryou, Malik studied his expression. The fact that he seemed to need to think things over made Ryou nervous, but when he eventually said, "Why not?", that settled things. "I don't know anything about this area. It'll be nice to have someone to hang out with. Besides, being stuck with my brother for this entire trip probably isn't what I want at all." Besides, Ryou had appeared sympathetic towards his lack of money.

Conning people out of money really shouldn't be his first thought.

End Chapter Four


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